Tag to 12x09
by hollybridgetpeppermint
Summary: Just what it says on the tin. A tag to episode 12x09 and a fix-it for the next episode with all Dean and Cas' stupid fighting. Borrowed the idea that Heaven isn't Cas' home anymore from another fic, can't remember what it was or who wrote it though.


**A/N: ...guess who's NOT dead? That's right-meeeeeee!**

 **Ahem.**

 **Anyway. Because it makes total sense to be posting a tag to an early Season 12 episode when we're about to start Season 14. But whatever. Life got in the way.**

 **I'm actually rather proud of this. It's not my first SPN fic, but the others were reader inserts, and therefore not allowed on this site. If you're interested, my Tumblr fanfic blog is the-pen-and-the-angel-blade.**

 **And now, on to the story!**

Cas is silent on the way home.

Not completely silent. He speaks if he's spoken to. But there's something in his demeanor that's just…wrong, and screams _silence_ even when he's talking.

But then, they're all kind of quiet. After what's just passed, Dean doesn't think they can be blamed. Still, he eventually puts on music, in a desperate attempt to keep things normal.

It only serves to contrast with the nearly-tangible stillness in the backseat, and he just as quickly shuts it off.

When they finally reach the bunker, a very long seven hours later, everyone sort of scatters. The silence persists, and Dean's about to go to his own room when he catches his mother's eye. Something in her gaze halts him, and he waits as Sam heads off.

Mary sighs, her eyes lingering on the door Cas firmly closed as soon as he entered the room. "He needs you."

Dean blinks. "What?"

"You heard me." There's a trace of "mom voice" in her tone, and he frowns slightly in surprise. Seeing his expression, she sighs again and looks away, losing the inflection. "I hurt him. I snapped at him, and I hurt him. And that's on me." She glances back at him again. "But anyone can see you two are close. He'd do anything for…well, I guess for any of us." A flash of guilt crosses her face. "But Dean, I don't think anyone else can help him like you can now. I just…" She holds his eyes. "It has to be you."

He hesitates, looking from her to the door that blocks him from Cas as effectively as a brick wall. But somehow, he knows she's right. Their angel has gone far too long without…well, without much of _anything_ in the way of comfort from them, he realizes, guilt of his own pooling in his stomach. In fact…he can't remember the last time he really listened to Cas, took care of him, even just made sure he was okay—okay for real, not the standard "I'm fine" that they're all so used to spouting. He has a sneaking suspicion that it might have been that time the angel told him he might kill himself (and that thought makes a pit of dread open in him). Of course it's not on purpose, of course he never means to hurt his friend, or to let him hurt alone. But somehow it always happens anyway. Somehow, there are always things that are more urgent, and he never gets around to checking on him.

Obviously things have gone on way too long like this, and now his friend is much more broken than he'd ever suspected.

And Dean can't help wondering if he'll be able to even come close to putting him back together.

Still, he has to try. He looks at his mom, wondering briefly if maybe it _would_ be better if she went instead, despite his earlier thoughts. After all, Mary's not so involved in all this. She may have snapped at Cas, but that's minor-league stuff compared to everything he's done to the guy who's supposed to be his best friend. He cringes internally at the thought, and the memories that quickly follow. Maybe he shouldn't be the one to talk to Cas. Because, as much as he hates the idea, out of all of them, he's the one who's hurt the angel the most.

But through all that, Cas still seems to lean on him, to…well…to _need_ him. He doesn't understand why his friend doesn't just leave, after everything. But for whatever strange reason, he's still there. So surely Dean owes him something for that. And if that "something" takes the form of going to talk him through his breakdown...he guesses that's only fair. Cas has stayed with him through his troubles. Now it's his turn.

So, giving Mary a nod, Dean crosses to the door of the angel's room and takes a breath, swallows, before knocking gently.

"Cas?"

There's no clear answer, but he thinks he hears a noise from inside, so he tries again. "Hey, Cas, buddy, can I come in?"

This time there's a definite sound, and the hunter takes it as a yes. He pulls open the door and enters the room, closing it softly behind him. He doesn't want any witnesses to the chick-flick moment that's sure to ensue if he can help it.

Cas is sitting on the bed, his back to Dean. It almost looks normal, but something in his posture is still very wrong.

"Uh…how you doin'?" Dean asks lamely, biting his lip and wishing he could come up with something better. This is just one reason he hates conversations like this.

A shrug of hunched shoulders is the only reply he gets, and his stomach curls in on itself with nausea. This is so unlike Cas, and even though he knew before he came in that things were badly amiss, it's one thing to have known it and another to see it again. He feels like he escaped drowning when the angel's earlier speech ended, only to have been plunged back into horribly cold water as soon as he came into this room.

"Right. Uh. Thought you might like some company," he tries again, and gets no response at all this time. "We could, uh, watch Netflix or something," he adds. Cas still doesn't answer.

If someone doesn't do something soon, they're _both_ going to drown in this awful chill.

"Look, man," he tries, taking a step forward. "I'm sorry about earlier. I just…"

The angel twitches, and Dean hears his breath catch. But he _still_ says nothing, and the hunter can't take it any longer.

" _Talk_ to me," he demands fiercely, crossing the rest of the room in two strides and kneeling on the bed behind Cas, grabbing his friend's shoulders and trying to turn him around. The angel resists for a moment, and then, suddenly, twists on his own, throwing Dean's hands and his balance off so he almost pitches sideways. Recovering himself, he stares at Cas, bewildered, concerned, and a little hurt by the look his friend's giving him—one he hasn't seen in years, brimming with anger and sizzling with angelic power. Maybe it's his imagination, or maybe not, but Dean can almost feel the air between them crackling with Grace.

"You're _sorry_?" Cas nearly growls, staring at him, something in his eyes making the hunter's throat close with worry. "Are you sure about that, Dean? Because it seems to me that you throw that idea around a lot. And I'm fairly sure that if people are really sorry, they're supposed to _show it._ Not go around doing exactly what they did again and again and _again_!"

"Cas—" he starts, but the angel continues.

"You know, if you're really _sorry_ , maybe you should think about me once in a while! Maybe you should stop putting me in positions where I take the fallout for whatever's gone wrong _this_ time. Maybe you should—should _notice_ me, sometime when one of us is _not_ at death's door." He scoffs, shaking his head, and is silent for a moment. Dean is, too, gaping at him, at a total loss for what to say. Then, abruptly, Cas' anger disappears, to be replaced with a flash of sadness that Dean can tell goes bone-deep and beyond. This only lasts a second, and then it, in its turn, is replaced by a flat nothing. "But you care most about the people you love. About your family." He stares at the hunter, his eyes dull, and somehow that hurts more than if he'd looked away, more than the fierce anger that was there just a moment ago. "I understand that. I'd just prefer it if you'd stop lying to me."

That's too much; it breaks through even Dean's confusion. "I didn't lie to you, Cas!" He chews his lip and amends, "Well, I guess I did about Gadreel." Sighing, he goes on, "And I'm sorry about that, man. I really—"

But Cas is waving a hand in the air, in a gesture so unlike himself that the words dry up on the hunter's tongue. "I'm not talking about that. I understand why you did that."

"Then what?" He's completely baffled now, and tries to think of other times he's lied.

"I mean right before you went to face Amara," Cas says. "I mean when I was reprogrammed and tried to kill you. I mean when I was trying to become God. I mean all the times you've told me I was family, or that I was…was like your brother." A flicker of emotion passes over his face, and then it stills again. "Many of those were my mistakes, and you had every right to try to stop me in whatever way you needed to. But it gets…wearing. Being told something that's not true over and over." He shrugs. "Still, I understand why you do it."

Dean sits speechless, mouth open, not even sure where to _begin_ to begin. At last he croaks feebly, "Cas, how could you think I don't mean that? You _are_ my—"

" _Don't_ say family." His tone is hard, brittle. He softens it, apparently with an effort, as he continues. "You don't have to say it right now. There's nothing you need to stop me from doing. I'm not about to destroy the world again. I'll take care of whatever consequences come from killing Billie. And I'm not going to leave, either, if that's what you're worried about," he adds. "I'll still come when you call." One shoulder rises in a slight shrug. "So you don't need to say it."

"What—Cas—" He shakes his head to clear it, wondering if maybe this is all some kind of nightmare. His brain is certainly foggy enough. "Man, you seriously think that?"

The angel just looks at him.

"But _why_?" Dean bursts out, his thoughts racing ahead of one another and tumbling out his mouth. "Cas, you've stood by us through thick and thin. You've…you've helped us with all of it. You've given up _everything_ for us—"

Cas nods. "Which is why you don't need to worry that I'm suddenly going to...to bail on you now."

"I'm not—just—" he stutters, shaking his head. "That's not what I'm worried about!"

"Then what is it?" The angel's tone is level, almost polite.

So many words crowd into Dean's head that he has to try too hard to get the right ones out. "Cas, you stupid—!" He stops, tries again. " _You_. Cas, I'm freaking—I'm worried about _you._ "

Cas sighs, sounding irritated. "Dean, we just went over this. You don't have to pretend."

"Oh, for—" He throws his hands up in the air. " _I'm not pretending_ , okay?! What do I have to do to convince you?!"

And suddenly he's being pinned by that glare again. "I don't know, Dean." The sarcasm in Cas' voice is nearly painful to listen to, it's so thick. "Maybe _listen_ when I tell you I want to kill myself. Maybe check on me the next time you kick me out of the only place I have to call home, _before_ the part where you need my help. Maybe stop taking everything that goes wrong in your life out on me." His voice cracks ever so slightly. "Maybe stop choosing everyone else over me, every time. Except when I'm about to die, of course. _Then_ you do something about it." He stops talking. Swallowing, he takes a breath and his expression goes blank again, before he shakes his head and continues. "It doesn't matter. You don't have to try to make me believe you. In fact, I'd rather you didn't. It's easier that way."

Yet again, the hunter is rendered silent by his friend's words. His stomach is twisted in so many knots he's not sure where it ends and the rest of him begins. Because the thing is, _Cas is right_. He knew it was bad. And, to be honest, he'd _thought_ he knew exactly how awful a friend he was.

Apparently he'd been wrong.

Before he can voice these thoughts, though, Cas speaks again. "You should go get some rest," he says coolly, as if nothing more has passed between them than a casual conversation. "I'm sure we'll have a long day tomorrow."

"Would you just _stop that_?" Dean half-shouts. "Just _listen_ to me, okay?" He takes a breath, trying to get a grip on himself. "Look," he says in a lowered tone, "I am…I'm a terrible friend, okay? I can't—I can't even explain how much I've screwed up here. Just…try to believe me when I say I need you around, Cas. You're not just some—some _thing_ I'm only worried about losing. I mean, I _am_ worried about losing you—" he cringes a little "—but that's because of _you_ , not some…power or whatever." Swallowing hard and biting his lip, he goes on. "And…yeah. You know what, you're totally right. I—I don't pay attention to you. And that is complete and utter _crap_ of me. I always have all these excuses, but…" He shakes his head. "…that's not good enough. So yeah, Cas. I…I screwed up bigtime. And I'm sorry." After hesitating a second, he adds, "So…I can try and make it up to you, I guess. Not gonna lie, I'm not sure how. I mean, how do you even start with something like that? But…I'll try. If you'll let me."

Something stirs in the depths of the blue eyes that are still holding his. But even his heartfelt words don't seem to be quite enough. Cas shrugs. "If you'd like," he says indifferently.

Dean presses his lips together, hard, not wanting to say something he'll regret. He's done enough damage. Finally he says, "Look. I get that you don't believe me. But…" And he stops, because what else is there to say? It's not like he can blame the angel for not taking him at his word. So instead, after a pause, he says, "Thanks. For, y'know, saving us. By the way."

And to Dean's surprise, that seems to be what puts a crack in the angel's composure. He takes in a breath that trembles slightly, his gaze suddenly gaining a depth that wasn't there before. "…you're welcome," he murmurs after a second, a real acknowledgment of the words, not the sarcastic phrase he voiced right after killing the reaper. Another pause, and he swallows, finally looking away. "Dean, I—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all that. It was…I…" He falters, taking a deep breath, hunching in on himself a little.

The hunter bites his lip. "Cas, you don't have to apologize. I mean…it was all true." He shrugs. "It's only fair you tell me what I did wrong. Not like you have to keep quiet and just take it all the time."

Cas says nothing in response to that, but the glimpse Dean gets of his expression tells him all he needs to know of his friend's feelings about that statement. He frowns and tries to catch the angel's gaze. "Cas. You _don't_ have to take it." He sighs. "I know I can be a jerk. It's just…it's something I've gotta work on, okay? But you should not have to put up with me acting like that to you. It's not fair." It's his turn to look away, pressing his lips together. "You have every right to call me out on it, man. Okay?"

He hears another shaky breath, and there's another silence. "Okay," Cas agrees finally, and something in his voice makes Dean look back at him, a little sharply. He has to swallow hard as he sees the tears pooling in his friend's eyes, his gaze spilling hurt, just as it was earlier.

"Cas…" His voice is quiet. To be honest, he's not sure what to say.

Cas closes his eyes, apparently taking this as a rebuke. "I'm sorry," he whispers, bowing his head so Dean can't see his face anymore.

The hunter frowns, reaching out to set a hand on his shoulder. "No—Cas, that wasn't what I meant. Look, you—you don't have to be sorry…" He clears his throat uncomfortably. "Dude, you just…I just…" He shakes his head.

With another quivering inhale, the angel nods, a shudder rippling through him. He tenses, clearly trying to hold back the shakes, and Dean bites his lip, sighs, and gives up. Leaning forward, he pulls his friend into a hug. "Just…it's fine, Cas, okay?" he mutters, holding him tightly.

There's a moment in which Cas stays perfectly still and stiff in Dean's arms. Then a small gasp escapes him, and he melts into the embrace, burying his head in the hunter's shoulder, muffling the sobs that are wrenching his chest.

Dean winces, hating the sound of his friend's cries, this sound that holds such pain. Cas is beaten and broken and suffering, and he didn't notice or care enough to do anything about it until it got as bad as this. He really is a failure as a friend, he thinks bitterly. Along with everything else, of course.

Another shudder runs through the angel, and Dean is pulled from his train of thought. His focus back on Cas, he tries to school the ideas into their proper place, telling himself it won't help anyone for him to spiral into that kind of reflection. Instead, he focuses on trying to give comfort, rubbing Cas' back as he used to do for a young Sammy.

The angel is clinging to him now, clutching tight as if Dean might disappear. _Or abandon him_ , the hunter adds acerbically in his head. He probably thinks Dean will leave him, just as he's done so many times before.

Well, he won't. Not this time. It's in that moment that he resolves to do whatever is necessary to get his friend—his _brother_ , he reaffirms to himself—back. To help him heal. And he can start by treating Cas like he does Sam, his brother by blood.

This has barely crossed his mind when he realizes he's already started. His grip on the angel is firm, keeping him secure in his arms. He's rubbing his friend's back with one hand, just as he's done for Sam so many times. This is a good beginning, and he's glad that his big brother instincts have kicked in at least so far.

Despite all this, though, he can't help but notice the sound of Cas' sobs. They're coming hard and fast, as if they've been desperate to escape him for a long time now—which they probably have—and each one hits Dean like an accusation, pounding the knowledge of his guilt into him. Each one makes him think of something else he's done to hurt his friend, and he does the only thing he knows how to combat the pain for both of them, holding the angel even closer against him in an attempt to reassure. He's not going anywhere. He's going to make up for this. He's going to treat Cas like he deserves.

Long minutes pass, and at last the weeping slows and then subsides. He can tell Cas isn't in too much of a hurry to let go of him, though, and he allows the continuing embrace. If this is what his friend needs, this is what he'll get. His own discomfort can wait.

"D-Dean?" he hears at last, the normally-gravelly voice sounding soaked and limp and unsteady.

"Yeah?" His reply is soft, hopefully soothing.

"I-I'm sorry."

Dean frowns, smoothing an absentminded hand over the angel's back again. "What for?"

"Everything." Cas is muffled, but continues. "I-I shouldn't have said all that. And I—" He stops, shivering, and then goes on again. "D-Dean, I—I couldn't let you die. And I couldn't let _her_ die. She's kind, and a good hunter, and a good woman, and she's trying her best in a world she's not used to and—and she's your _mother_ , Dean. How—how could I live with myself if I'd let her die? She's—sh-she's what you've wanted, what you've _needed_ since you lost her the first time." He swallows. "Isn't she?"

It's Dean's turn to shudder. The thought of losing her… That was never, _never_ what he intended when he made that deal. "Yeah," he admits lowly. "Yeah, she—she is. But Cas—"

" _P-please_ don't tell me I should have let you die." The angel's voice is wobbling again, and he's started to shake once more. "I c-can't. I _can't_ , Dean. I've lost you before, and—and s-someday I'll lose you again, and I don't know if I'll be able to see you, b-because Heaven—Heaven's not my home anymore. And after what I've done…" His head shakes against Dean's shoulder. "I j-just…I don't know. So many of my brothers and sisters hate that I care about you, that I side with humans over them. And of course I'd t-try to get to you, but I don't know what they'll do, Dean, I don't know what they'll do to keep me from you!" His voice has risen now. "S-so can't you see why I try so hard…to keep you alive? You and Sam, y-you're…you're my family, even if…" He stops, trailing off, and Dean feels his stomach turn again. He's fairly sure he knows how Cas was going to finish that sentence. But the angel's gone on speaking. "I just—I _need_ you, I need you both, and I c-can't—if you keep trying—" He's cut off by a sob.

"Okay, Cas," Dean murmurs, his hand rubbing the distraught angel's back again. "Okay. Hey, it's gonna be okay." He sighs. "'M sorry, okay? I'm sorry I keep dying. I just…" He shakes his head and falls silent again.

Cas nods, and he seems to calm faster this time. Still, it's another minute or two before he stops crying.

When he's quiet again, Dean hesitates. "Hey…Cas?"

The angel makes a noise of acknowledgment.

"Look, man, I…I really do think of you as family. I don't blame you for not believing me, because I've done a crappy job of showing it. But I do." He chews his lip. "Just, uh…wanted to make sure you knew that."

There's a moment's silence. Then Cas nods, though Dean can't help but feel there's not much enthusiasm behind it. He sighs and holds his friend closer, unable to help thinking again about just how badly he's messed up.

"Dean?" The angel's voice is soft and uncertain.

"Yeah?"

He takes a breath. "Thank you."

Dean closes his eyes for a second, swallowing, suddenly hit by a wave of his own emotion. Then he nods. "Sure, Cas."

Healing is a long process, Dean knows. But he hopes that eventually, with the help of the family he's given everything to save, the family that's now his own, Cas will find his way back to the person he used to be.


End file.
